Under The Knife
by Pandamega
Summary: AU. Kid/Law. Late night, a surgeon stumbles upon a bloody body, barely breathing. "No hospital," the man insists. A story of life, death, lust, and love.
1. 1 No Hospital

Blood seeped between his fingers like black syrup as he held his gaping wound together. Leaning against the cold brick wall the figure dragged himself through the alley, upright only through sheer force of will. A trail of blood followed him in the night.

 _So this is what dying feels like._

There were many times in the man's life when he should have died, but if this was what finally took him down he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Chuckling, the man's knees buckled and he slid to the ground. Struggling to breathe, air seemed to be leaking out of his lungs through the hole in his chest, he wheezed, head spinning. Surprisingly the pain was minimal, his body felt light and tingly all over, likely from the blood loss, and his head felt cloudy. Thoughts slipped through his mind as if he were waking from a dream, or slipping into one. A distant ringing in his ears grew louder and the world around him faded into light… sensation left his body and he felt himself dissolve into the air.

* * *

 _'Blood?'_ thought a lanky, dark-haired man as he roamed the dimly-lit streets.

 _'Not surprising in this neighborhood_.' The last train of the night didn't complete the route, leaving him to groggily walk through unfamiliar streets to get home. Feeling light headed from fatigue, the man found himself unconsciously following the drops of blood trailing along the sidewalk. He had just gotten out of a twenty hour surgery stitching up a kid who had been shot four times. The hospital shifts were brutal but he was confident in his work… now he only needed to get home to sleep. Home… which way was that again?

The surgeon turned into an alley and stumbled over something soft and almost fell, catching himself on a brick wall. Weary eyes focused on a large mound at his feet… clothing? A man. Dead? He studied the body, large, heavily muscled, a flash of red hair and a pained expression. Knife wound to the abdomen, knife wound to the chest. Cause of death, exsanguination? Wait, he has a pulse.

The surgeon was on autopilot. Before he had even realized that the mound was a man, his hands were searching for signs of life, and found it. The pulse was weak, unsteady, the man did not have long to live. The groggy doctor was gradually becoming more awake as the situation unfolded, adrenaline coursing through his body anew and he set to work saving the man's life. Thoughts were flooding into his head and and he ignored all of them, letting his expert hands do the thinking.

 _Staunch blood flow from abdominal wound. Vascular damage. Possible organ damage. Close chest wound. Possible collapsed lung. Clean the wounds._

Rifling through his knapsack he pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves, gauze, a few mini bottles of vodka, a caffeine energy shot, and a roll of duct tape. He always travelled well prepared.

The gloves went on first. Twisting off the cap of the mini vodka with his teeth, he peeled back the layers of blood-soaked clothing to expose the wounds. Gauze was splashed with alcohol and wiped over the injuries so he could see the damage more clearly. A lazy glut of blood was slowly pumping out of the abdominal wound. One firm hand pressed down with gauze to stem the bleeding while the other took the vodka back in hand. The surgeon downed the rest of the vodka with a wince, then downed the energy shot. He then ripped off a section of duct tape with his teeth and placed it over the chest wound to seal it. If air was allowed to pass through the wound into the pleural cavity the lung could collapse, if it hadn't already. Another piece of duct tape was ripped off and placed over the gauze on the abdomen.

 _Need to perform emergency laparotomy._

As it was, he had no way of knowing the full extent of the damage. It was too dark and dirty to operate here, he didn't have the necessary supplies. The man needed a blood transfusion. He needed a hospital. But the surgeon had no way to contact anyone, his phone had no reception in this area. Going door to door was an option, but he doubted anyone would answer a midnight call from a stranger in this neighborhood. Home wasn't too far. If the man could survive being dragged to the surgeon's house he would be able to operate immediately, or call an ambulance.

 _I'm too tired for this shit._

Reaching around the limp body and pulling a heavy arm over his shoulders, he hoisted the man up and began walking. _Fuck._ The man was big and heavy, and the surgeon was tired and not all that strong. The going was rough, and he asked himself several times why he was doing this, but the doctor had taken his Hippocratic oath and it was his duty to heal.

They were closer to his house than he had realized. The surgeon fumbled for his keys, dragged the man inside and lay him on the hardwood floor. No time to go to the table, he would operate here. Lights were flicked on, a fresh pair of gloves were donned, and the surgeon got to work.

He pulled an oxygen tank with a mask out of a nearby cabinet and set up a makeshift IV drip with sterile saline solution. Additional bags of saline solution were used to flush the wounds as he could now clean them more thoroughly. Antiseptic was applied to both wounds and he taped more gauze to the abdominal injury to keep the bleeding down. Pulling out a stethoscope he checked the man's pulse and breathing. The lung was partially collapsed. He closed and sealed the chest wound, took a scalpel to a lower section of the thorax and made a small, deep incision to insert a small tube to drain the fluids that had accumulated in the pleural cavity. The man's breathing became steadier. Now came the fun part. Or, it would, but the surgeon realized he should really call an ambulance at this point. He reached into his back pocket with a bloody gloved hand to pull out is phone. Glancing down, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw the man's face; his eyes were wide open, red and bloodshot.

"Hello," spoke the surgeon. He wasn't too confident in his bedside manner as his patients usually came to him unconscious. "Don't worry, I'm calling an ambulance."

The man's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Don't strain yourself, everything's going to be alri-"

" _No hospital_ " the man choked out through the oxygen mask.

The surgeon frowned. _Oh_. He was one of those unlawful types. Figures. Well at least now he would get to do the fun part. The doctor had a wicked, unsettling smile.

"I'm afraid I don't have any anesthetic."

" _No.. hospital,_ " the man insisted.

Setting his phone down on the floor next to him and picking up the scalpel, the surgeon began the laparotomy by making a vertical incision into the man's pale, muscular abdomen to gain access to all the little organs inside and qualify the damage. The man, fully conscious, lay there watching the surgeon put his hands inside his body, feeling everything. He gri his teeth and made great efforts to ignore the pain, it was so surreal, everything felt hazy. The doctor had dark, tired eyes and a dangerous smile.

"My name is Law.. I'm a surgeon," talking to trauma victims supposedly helped keep them calm and increased success rates, so the surgeon talked while he worked. The extent of the damage was moderate. Internal stitches would be required and drainage to remove bile that had leaked into the abdomen. Organ damage was present to the liver and outer intestinal wall. Law glanced periodically up at the man's face, fascinated. The red-haired criminal had a very high tolerance to pain, but was clearly struggling to endure the waves of agony that must have been growing now that the initial adrenaline rush from the attack had worn off. He liked watching the subtle movements in the body, little reactions to pain and touch. Law applied clamps to several severed blood vessels before stitching each one up.

The injured man watched the surgeon work. he average person would have looked away, but he was no average man, and he stared down at his open body as gloved hands attatched scissor-like clamps to part of his innards so that several of the silvery metal tools stuck out from inside him. The surgeon was strangely pleased that to have his patient also as his audience, watching the mutilation of his own body with great interest, apparently unphased by the body-horror of his condition. Law liked this man already.

Perhaps it was his closeness to death, but the patient felt waves of sensations and emotions wash over him like a roller coaster. Pain was momentarily pleasure, was momentarily sadness, and suddenly joy, and then nausea, and back to pain. The surgeon's face with his dark eyes floated in front of him, fuzzy, smiling a dangerous smile, dark eyes, dangerous smile, pain, pleasure, sadness, joy. Heart skipping a few beats, blood pressure dangerously low, he was tingly all over and and his thoughts connected with about as much logic as a dream.

When surgery was complete the man had passed out again but his vitals were steady. Law managed to pull off his gloves and throw them away, walk to the bathroom and strip before passing out in the shower. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since he had last slept, and the past thirty of those hours were performing surgery. Overworked and sleep deprived, he lay slumped over in the bathtub through the night and well into the morning, dreaming of a red-haired stranger and his beautiful broken body.


	2. 2 Relax

A large, bear-like man studied the blood smears leading up the walkway to his door with apprehension. Nervously stepping forward, he pushed the door and found it to be open. A chill went up his spine at what he saw inside, taking a sharp, horrified inhale.

Blood everywhere. And in the middle of the floor, a man, unconscious, heavily bandaged and connected to a makeshift IV, oxygen tank, and surrounded by surgical tools.

 _Calm yourself_. This wasn't the first time he'd seen a sight like this, but he wished it were the last.

"Law?" he called out nervously. There was no answer.

The man carefully walked around the body and went to his friend's bedroom, empty. He looked around the house growing more and more worried that he couldn't find his friend. Finally, he went to the bathroom, opened the door and screeched. Bloody hand prints, smears on the wall, and his unconscious friend lying naked in the tub.

"LAW!"

The man stirred.

"Oh thank god…"

"Bepo?" the naked man muttered groggily, " _sleepy._ "

"Law what's going on? There's a dead man in your kitchen."

Law bolted up, "Dead?" He died? " _Fuck,_ " he stood up unsteadily.

"Wait wait, no he's not dead, he just looks dead. He was breathing, don't worry."

"Oh…"

"Law.. I thought you said you wouldn't take these kinds of clients anymore," Bepo said anxiously.

"I don't."

"One look at that guy and I know he's not a lawful citizen, otherwise he'd be in a hospital." Bepo insisted.

"I just… found him in the streets last night. He just happened to be that kind of client," Law chuckled tiredly.

The large man frowned.

"Can you call Penguin to help us clean up the place?" The doctor asked, pulling his knees up to rest is head on them.

"I'll take care of it. You take your shower."

Bepo was a thoughtful, reliable friend. The two of them have known each other for years and were very comfortable in each other's presence. This wasn't the first time Bepo had come over to find Law passed out naked, unfortunately. Needless to say, the man's nakedness was no shock to either of them.

The surgeon took a long, relaxing shower, finally exiting to put on a black bath robe with yellow trim. When he stepped out of the bathroom he was surprised to find the area much cleaner than he'd left it the night before, with his two friends scrubbing vigorously at the blood stains on the walls.

"Thanks you guys."

The pair paused and looked up at their friend. "So who is he?" Bepo asked.

Law crouched down beside the unconscious man, noticing now that the man had rugged, pale features, no eyebrows, but an otherwise attractive face with a strong jawline and sharp nose. The rest of the man's body was sturdily built, with creamy skin stretched taught over well-defined muscles. The surgeon grinned, "Let's find out."

He began digging through the man's pockets and pulled out a wallet, a smartphone, a burner phone, and a handful of screws and bolts. Rifling through the beaten up wallet he was disappointed to find only a few small bills for cash. "I was hoping he'd be a high roller." A drivers licence was tucked into the folds of the wallet and it read 'Eustass Kidd.'

"That can't be his real name," he scoffed.

The three men with unusual names chuckled at each other.

Law went for the smartphone next, surprised to see that it still held a charge at eight percent.

Using the unconscious man's finger to unlock the screen, the surgeon was able to access the phone's secrets. "Eight missed calls and nine new messages… Someone was worried about him" he smirked, scrolling through the messages as his friends looked on

"Seem's like he's closest to someone named 'Killer,' sounds like a nice guy."

The two friends glanced at each other worriedly. Law opened the contact and pressed 'call.'

"What are you doing!" Penguin asked when he saw his friend holding the phone up to his ear.

"Calling Killer," replied the doctor casually.

"Noooo no no no, definitely don't call the guy named Killer," exclaimed Bepo, "doesn't he have another contact? Like mom? Call mom! Hey Siri, call mom!"

Law laughed and shushed them, "maybe Killer is his mom," he chuckled, to the dismay of his friends.

The line connected and a rough voice answered the phone speaking fast and worriedly, "Boss? Where are you, I've been trying to reach you."

Law smiled. "About that."

The line went silent. Killer spoke menacingly, "Who is this. Where the fuck is Eustass"

Law glanced at his friends whispering "so that is his real name!" before returning to the call with a confident but jeering tone, "This is the man that saved you boss's life."

"Bullshit. You're fucking dead. Where is he."

"Well, last night he was lying in an alley with a knife wound to the chest and the abdomen with severe hypovolemia, a collapsed lung, and a punctured liver. Now he's stitched up in my house sleeping like a babe," the surgeon explained.

"... tell me where to pick him up"

"Ah -ah. Not for free."

His friends looked at him wide eyed mouthing " _no._ "

"What?" came the angry voice on the other end of the line.

"How much is your boss's life worth?" began Law defiantly, "Bring me that amount, in cash, and you can have your man back good as new. I _did_ just save his life without involving the authorities and that service doesn't come for free." Law's friends had panicked expressions as they watched him try to swindle the man named Killer.

The line was quiet for a moment until the voice snarled, "fine."

Satisfied, the surgeon told the man his address and hung up the phone.

With incredulous, dismayed expressions, Bepo and Penguin screeched "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

To which Law replied calmly, "Probably."

"You gave Killer our address!" cried Bepo, who did in fact live in this house too.

"Yeah, I considered meeting up somewhere, but I don't want to transport the body," the surgeon sighed.

"Don't call him a body! He's alive, he's very alive!" Penguin insisted, knowing Killer would live up to his name if the patient did not survive.

The two friends paced the room anxiously, running through worst-case scenarios out loud while the surgeon admired his work, and the body he had operated on. He checked the man's vitals and took a few blood samples to bring to the lab when he went back to work.

Barely fifteen minutes had passed when a firm knock came at the door, making Bepo and Penguin freeze in their tracks and glance at each other fearfully. Relaxed, Law opened the door, still in his bathrobe, only to be met with a gun pointed square in his face.

A tall, powerful looking man stood in the doorway, a mess of long blond hair obscuring his eyes and cascading down his back and a surgical mask hiding the rest of his face.

"Where is he," the mysterious man growled, cocking the pistol in his hand.

Law, unflinching, smiled endearingly, "He's right inside, come on in," and completely disregarding the gun pointed at him, turned on his heels and lead the man inside.

Killer faltered, unaccustomed to his threats being blatantly ignored. He'd never seen a man act so calm with a gun pointed in his face. He hesitantly followed the man inside to find Eustass lying on the floor, face hidden by an oxygen mask, IV trailing out of his hand. He immediately lowered his weapon and rushed to the man's side.

"Captain," he said softly but urgently while checking the unconscious man's pulse. His eyes followed the myriad of injuries and the heavily bandaged torso, then looked up at the surgeon. Killer resumed his threatening voice, hiding the bewilderment and concern.

"It appears you were telling the truth."

"Of course," smiled the doctor.

Killer stood, slipping a hand into his coat and pulled out a thick manilla envelope.

"The value of my boss's life." He reached inside and pulled out half of the contents, a thick stack of cash, and put it back in his coat. "You'll receive the rest when he's fully recovered. He'll stay here until then."

Behind Killer, the surgeon's two friends were shaking their heads vigorously crossing their arms and mouthing "No! Don't do it!" But Law simply grinned and accepted the envelope, saying "He'll be in good hands."

"If he dies, so do you and your two friends," threatened Killer, glancing back at the two men behind him, who instantly threw their arms to their sides and stood stalk still.

"He won't die," assured the doctor.

"This is between us. Speak to no one. Don't contact the authorities, no police, no hospitals. Got it? I'll be watching you."

"Deal."

Killer turned to leave but the surgeon spoke up again, "Mr. Killer," he started, "you wouldn't by any chance have access to pharmaceuticals? It would draw too much attention to myself if I stole them from the hospital" he began writing on a scrap of paper. "Bring me these," he said, handing the note to the dangerous looking man.

Killer studied the list, "he needs all of these?"

"The first two," the doctor smiled slyly, "The rest are for myself."

Killer thought for a moment. "You'll have them tonight. Anything else?"

"That should do it."

"Alright," he said, turning towards the door, "and get him off the floor."

When the man left the house, Bepo and Penguin sighed with relief, then looked to their friend with exasperated expressions.

Law merely smirked, "You heard him, let's put him somewhere."

The two thought before Penguin offered, "The bed?"

"Ew, no," replied the doctor, "maybe the bathtub? Dining table?"

"No!" both friends cried at the crass suggestions.

"The couch then. Let me put some plastic down first."

The trio finally reached an agreement. Law went to his closet to pull out a large folded sheet of plastic and threw it over the couch.

"It looks like we're going to kill him and hide the evidence…" Penguin muttered uncomfortably, tucking the vinyl sheet around the cusions.

"I thought we were done with this kind of stuff… this is the worst," sighed Bepo.

The three of them delicately lifted the heavy unconscious man and moved him to the couch, where he shifted but did not awaken.

Law crouched next to the man, looking up at his friends, "Thank you for all the help. I'm going to change his bandages now."

"You know we're here for you boss."

The surgeon laughed at the old moniker. Law was once the owner of a small clinic with part-time operations outside of the law. Bepo and Penguin had been part of his nursing staff at the time, along with a third man, Shachi. All of them now had lawful jobs at legitimate establishments. Penguin was a triage nurse, Shachi was a psychiatric nurse practitioner, and Bepo was a surgical nurse. Law of course was a trauma surgeon. The two nurses soon left for their hospital shifts, leaving the surgeon alone with his unconscious patient on his day off.

Law replaced the drained IV bag with a new bag of saline solution and checked the air pressure on the oxygen tank. Eustass's vitals were improving steadily, his wounds only needed to be checked regularly and his bandaged changed to avoid infection. If the man awoke in this strange place he might cause quite a fuss and reopen his wounds, so Law considered the possibility of restraining the man. He did have some restraints in his bedroom… Perhaps that would be the wisest thing to do.

Pulling on some nitrile gloves, the surgeon looked over his patient's fine body. He enjoyed humans much more when they were powerless beneath him. With a gloved hand he stroked the bare skin where the man's eyebrows should have been, dragging his fingers across the closed eyelids and along the strong jawline, down the firm muscles of the bare neck and traced the length of collarbone. This was an exquisite specimen of a man. The unusual, fiery red hair and browless features were strikingly handsome in a crude, unexpected sort of way. Taking a pair of sterilized steel scissors in hand he sliced the bandages from the man's body and pulled them off. They had become moist with blood and pus from the weeping wounds, but were not excessively soiled as the injuries had been skillfully closed.

As the doctor inspected his work he felt the body stir, tense, and awaken beneath him. A low groan rumbled out of the man, then a cough that racked his broken frame.

Kid's head was hazy. He slowly regained consciousness to the sensation of stabbing pain in his gut and aches all over his body. _What the fuck happened._ His mind was clouded with incoherent thoughts which physically hurt to piece together. He vaguely felt the touch of foreign hands and became aware that he wasn't alone. _Where am I._ With immense effort the injured man opened his bleary eyes. His vision crossed in and out of focus until his sight settled on a man next to him. _Who are you._ Trying to no avail to verbalize his thought, he coughed, lungs and throat failing to cooperate with his brain. As he took in the unfamiliar surroundings and as the pain set into his awakening body, his heart rate increased and adrenaline pumped into his system.

Suddenly his head was barraged with memories of the night before, cornered in an alley, overwhelmed, interrogated, hair pulled, stabbed in the gut, stabbed in the chest, fighting back, _who, who was it_. He began thrashing, and the doctor was glad he'd decided to restrain the man. When Kid felt the restraints he flailed more wildly, resisting the binds and the calm touch of the man next to him. _Who?_

"Mr. Eustass, relax," came a calm, warm voice. Eustass did not relax. "You're safe."

The wild red-head glared at his captor with searing eyes, opening his mouth to speak but unable to make a sound. Pain in his chest protested as he forced his lungs to cooperate, but the doctor pressed a palm on his throat dangerously, sliding it up under his chin and gripping firmly.

"I said, _relax_ ," the doctor insisted unwaveringly, fingernails pressing into the muscular jaw, "the more you struggle, the more work you're going to give me, and I'm _very_ tired."

A ragged growl escaped the back of Kid's throat, but he ceased his struggling, sensing that the man above him was in control and dangerous.

Keeping one hand on his captive's throat, Law trailed his other hand down the man's body, watching the muscles twitch and react to the touch. He then released his grip and pulled out his stethoscope, silently pressing the cold diaphragm to the man's chest, listening to the quickened heartbeat and breathing. Eustass watched as the metal piece was placed around his chest. He was told to breathe deeply, and he complied, with irritation. The man was a doctor, a strange doctor, with dark hair and darker eyes set in dark, tired circles. But the doctor had an alluring albeit sinister smile that the criminal found enticing, and there was something slightly erotic about watching the man work clinically on his helpless body over the oxygen mask. The cold metal of the stethoscope left his skin feeling chilled, his body seemed disobedient after his near-death experience, and the doctor's touches awakened nerve endings he didn't realize he had.

Inspecting the injuries, Law admired his own work as well as the muscular frame he had operated on. The neat stitches on the bruised and abused flesh contrasted starkly with the pale, untouched skin. It was beautiful. The wounds were mostly dry, so the doctor applied a thin layer of ointment to keep them from cracking or peeling.

The ointment was cool and slimy on the sensitive wounds, and the pressure directly on the damaged flesh made Eustace twitch, grimace, but his nerves were so fucked up he couldn't distinguish the sensation from pain or pleasure. He glanced up to see the doctor's face painted with an unsettling smile that sends a twist to his stomach.

"Mr. Eustass," the surgeon purrs, "are you getting aroused?"

Kid pulls away, feeling heat rising to his cheeks and spilling down his neck into his chest. He sure as hell was _not_ \- is what he wished he could say, but he body had completely betrayed him. Below his belt, a stiffness was growing beneath the brightly colored red and yellow fabric.

The surgeon's trained hands travelled over the wounds, sliding down the man's torso and past his navel where they wrapped around his belt, pulling upwards to apply more pressure to the tightness in the injured man's groin.

Kid could barely suppress the groan that formed in the back of his throat, _fuck_ , his body was so sensitive. He felt like a fucking virgin.

The surgeon's eyes were alight with intrigue, studying the red-head's face, scrunched into an expression of frustration and pleasure. The doctor's fingers looped into the belt and pulled it from the clasp, sliding the whole length of the belt out from under the injured man.

Kid forced his voice to cooperate and let out a strained, " _what._ "

"Shhh," the doctor reassured, smoothing his palm over the bulged fabric, sending an electrical spark through Eustass's damaged body. Law watched with satisfaction as the man twitched and pulled at his restraints to escape. The large, muscular man lying completely helpless before him was entirely ravishing. The surgeon continued spreading ointment over the damaged, stitched flesh, sending jolts of pain through Kid's body that somehow caused a rush of pressure directly to his groin.

 _What did he do to me?_ The man thought, certain his body had gone haywire as it reacted lewdly to the doctor's touches. But his thoughts of frustration and anger only fueled his adrenaline-charged arousal, and the more he thought of the bastard surgeon who'd re-wired his body, the more those thoughts transformed into lascivious fantasies of gloved hands manipulating his body. In his feverish delusion those clinical hands and the surgical tools were erotic weapons breaking down his desperate grasp of self-control. Before he knew it, he found himself longing for that perfectly calm, perfectly attractive doctor to satisfy the ache growing between his legs.

"Don't worry, Mr. Eustass, I'll take the pain away."


End file.
